Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2013
My skin sought the company of hers
Finger tips brushed against my bony wrist
I almost tasted her lips
When she spoke of journeys downwards
Into caves that hide the darkest intentions

Her fingers laced atop her bobbing knee
- she's impatient to speak -
While I'm eager to listen
If only to pretend that each word that touches her mouth was my lips pressed firmly
Lydia Ann
Written by
Lydia Ann
Please log in to view and add comments on poems